Familiar Skies
by Rainkissed Dahlia
Summary: ReincarnationAU. Marco finds Jean passed out drunk in his backyard one night. Jean doesn't really enjoy the company of other people anymore, and he doesn't really know why. But Marco is different. However, Marco remembers the fight against the Titans and the death he suffered, while Jean believes the nightmares he has are just nightmares.
1. Chapter 1

"Go away Jaeger."

Eren's emerald eyes spat daggers at him, his eyebrow twitching angrily. "Excuse me? I'm just trying to get you involved back in our group again. Mikasa is worried that you're drifting away again, so to reassure her, you should come to a party with us this weekend." Eren reasoned, repressing the colorful language he would so much rather use right now.

"I'm not 'drifting away,' Jaeger. Whatever that means."

"You're as stubborn as a horse." Eren whispered to himself. Or so he thought.

"What was that, you asshat?!" Jean whirled around on him and grabbed him by his collar.

Eren smiled wickedly. "There he is! The Jean I am oh so fond of."

Jean released him tiredly and began walking off.

"C'mon Jean! One party."

"Didn't I tell you to go away."

"Go with us to this one party, and if you don't enjoy yourself, I will never ask you to another party again."

Jean turned around. "You sure?"

Eren nodded.

He huffed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess there's no choice then. I'll go for a little awhile, but that's it."

Eren clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "Sweet! I'll let Mikasa know."

"Yeah, okay. See you around." Jean began walking off once more.

"You know I'm just looking out for you, right?" Eren shouted from behind him.

Jean waved and didn't look back.

What could Eren have meant anyway? He wasn't any different than he'd always been. Maybe. What did it matter anyway? People change all the time.

* * *

><p>Jean slowly buttoned his shirt and plopped down his couch. Man, did he not want to go to a loud party with a bunch of drunken teenagers drowning in cheap alcohol and pent up sexual frustration. No, this was not going to be any fun. But it would bring Eren and Mikasa some ease of mind. Three knocks rapped on his door. "Come in, it's open!" he shouted lazily.<p>

"You can't even open the door, you lazy bastard?" Eren spat. Jean glared at him.

"Stop acting like fools." a quiet voice from behind Eren stated simply.

"Oh, hey Mikasa." Jean smiled.

"Are you ready to go?" Eren looked him up and down and nodded. "Who knew you could actually dress fashionably for a party."

"Shut up." Jean grunted as he rose from his couch and slipped on his shoes. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

><p>Jean massaged his temples and sighed. The loud music and smell of alcohol penetrated the cool night, the booming waves of laughter and party games warning him not to enter.<p>

"I really don't want to do this." he mumbled.

"You'll loosen up after a drink or two."

Eren grabbed his arm and steered him into the large house whose guests seemed to take no notice of them. At least, they didn't notice Jean.

"Yo, Jaeger! It's been awhile!"

"Hey, it's Jaeger!"

"Mikasa, looking good!"

"Eren, how you been buddy?"

Jean glanced over at Eren, who was obviously enjoying the attention. He took his opportunity to escape into the kitchen, which was occupied by unconscious teenage jocks and a few couples whose boundaries were nonexistent, obviously. He shook his head and looked around for something to drink. He noticed a large clear bottle standing alone and untouched on the counter.

"How weird." he murmured to himself as he grabbed it. "Must be a sign from God." he joked to no one in particular as he headed outside to the large backyard, mostly uninhabited.

Jean plopped down on a lawn chair and studied the bottle of vodka. "Why not?" he sighed and took a swig, and then another.

"I'm pathetic." he laughed, as he took another gulp.

Suddenly, some of the party-goers began jumping into the large heated-pool next to him, splashing water on him.

God, how annoying.

He stood and began to walk off further into the yard, somewhat unsteadily. "I hate people." he spat, drinking more of the depleted bottle. Jean noticed a small path bordered by trees beginning to lose their leaves and began to walk down it, not caring where he ended up. "Who even needs a yard this big?" He huffed.

He stopped walking after a few steps and looked up at the patchy starry sky that shone through the tree tops.

"How pretty." he slurred.

Somehow it looked familiar. He shook his head to clear it. "That's impossible, all skies look the same.

Then, he could hear a banging noise coming from his right. "Who's over there?" he asked loudly, slowly approaching the noise coming from behind the tall bushes lined just behind the trees. "Is everything okay?" He peered through the bushes cautiously, just to see a slightly ajar wooden gate door banging open in the wind. "That's it? I thought this could at least have turned into some kind of scary movie." he slurred as he opened the door wider and entered the dark expanse laid out before him.

He took a swig and began to continue looking around when he suddenly fell forward and he thudded to the ground. He wish he could say it hurt, or that he at least felt something, but he didn't. His mind was too hazy, his body kind of fuzzy and cold. He mustered up the last of his energy to roll over onto his back, and look up at the sky, now unblocked by trees. Jean studied the blanket of stars laid out above him and sighed. "How beautiful." And then, everything went dark.

* * *

><p>"I'm warm. So warm. No, it's hot. I'm burning. Am I dead?"<p>

"No, you're not dead." a quiet voice drifted into his mind.

"Where am I?" Jean croaked.

"In my bed."

"Why? Is this a form of hell."

Lilting laughter floated around the haze in his mind. "Jean, just open your eyes."

"Open my eyes? To what? Have I yet to realize my potential for this world, and now I am too late? Have I taken those closest to me for granted, and now I'm being punished for it?"

"Well if you know you're taking them for granted, shouldn't you fix you're behavior?" The voice sounded amused. "I meant it literally. Jean, open your eyes."

"I can't. I must repent." he whined.

"Honestly," the voice seemed far away for a moment.

"Where are you going?"

"To grab your breakfast."

Jean bolted upright, and a little to fast. He began to sway, and he grabbed his head. "I feel terrible."

"Well, I did find an almost empty bottle of vodka next to your unconscious body this morning." The voice moved closer once again. "Here."

A glass of water was placed next to him.

"Thanks, Jaeger."

"Jaeger? That's not my name."

Jean slowly glanced up at the soft voice. He reeled, pulling the blanket up to his chin and backing up against the headboard of the extremely comfortable bed he was lying in. "Who the hell are you?!" He shouted pointing at the tan boy who looked about his age, with light brown, fluffy hair and almond eyes. "And what the hell is all over your face?"

The boy blushed and looked away. "Those are my freckles. I was kind of, um, born with them…"

"Who the hell has that many freckles?" Jean asked in disbelief. Although, to him, they didn't look bad, at all. They were somewhat endearing and made him look innocent.

"I-I'm Marco. I found you passed out in my backyard in the middle of the night."

"Your backyard? But I thought I was still at the house having a party last night…"

Marco shook his head. "You walked through the gate, which leads to my yard."

"Oh, that's right." Jean murmured, rubbing his face. "Wait, how do you know my name?"

Jean looked up at the boy, who's eyes suddenly looked tired and timeless. "I've known you for a long time."

"Like, from around town?"

Marco looked away and began to leave the room. "Yeah, that's it. I'll be right back."

Jean watched him go, and settled comfortably back in the bed. He didn't feel threatened, rather, he felt oddly peaceful. Tiredly, he began to reach for the cup of water Marco had placed on the side table. Jean retracted his hand as Marco walked in with a tray of delicious smelling food.

"Um, sorry but, I guess I spilled the cup of water you gave me when I moved the blanket."

Marco handed Jean the tray of food and picked up the emptied glass, and the weird rectangle-shaped piece of wood it had spilled onto. "What's that?" Jean said through a mouth full of eggs. Marco turned it around to reveal a beautiful, half-finished landscape painting of silhouetted mountains laid out on a pink and orange sky, now blurred by water.

"I'm sorry."

Marco shook his head and threw it in the small waste basket across the room.

"It wasn't that good anyway."

"So you're a painter?"

Marco smiled shyly as he nodded.

"That's cool. What do you paint?" Jean questioned as he tore into his toast.

"Mostly skylines. I like them."

Jean pointed his fork at him. "But don't you run out of things to paint, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, all skies look the same."

Marco smiled and shook his head, gazing out the window at the gray sky. "Each view, each place, each time, each night, is different. Different colors, different circumstances, different feelings, different memories." He looked back at Jean. "I never run out of skies to paint."

Jean studied his face, then returned to eating.

"Well, I washed your clothes and folded them, they're in the bathroom, first door to your left, whenever you get done. You can take a shower when you're done eating, if you want. I'm going to wash the dishes. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Jean nodded as Marco left.

This kid was weird. Who allows a drunken man they found in their yard into their home, feed them, provide them clothes, and allow them to sleep in their bed? Jean grunted as he slowly stood, unsteadily, and made his way to the bathroom. A shower would be nice right about now.

He turned on the bathroom light and gasped. He looked unruly, even more so than usual. His sandy hair pointed every direction, his face was red and splotchy and the pajamas he was wearing were tight in some places…Jean reeled. Obviously, these weren't his pajamas.

"T-that means he undressed me while I was unconscious." Jean whimpered.

No way. Could Marco actually be a pervert? Jean shook his head. There was no way he was a pervert. He had taken care of him while he was knocked out. Slowly, he unbuttoned the pajama topped and discarded it in the laundry basket in the corner. His body ached too much to move quickly. Slowly he pulled off the pants, which were a little to short for him, and blushed. He wasn't wearing any underwear.

"How embarrassing." He groaned and put the pants away too, and turned on the shower. He needed to get home. Jaeger was probably going to kill him for leaving without saying anything and worrying Mikasa. Jean grunted as the hot water rolled down his soar body. Despite the soarness, he felt rested and calm. Even his head wasn't pounding too bad anymore. But he didn't want to face the kid who had found him unconscious, it was too embarrassing. Maybe he could just sneak out.

"Would that really work though?" he mumbled to himself as he grabbed a towel and shut off the water. Carefully he dried himself and pulled on his underwear and pants that, as promised, had been cleaned and folded on the bathroom counter. As he picked up his shirt, a loud crashing noise came from inside the house. He opened the bathroom door quickly and began looking for the source of the noise.

"Marco?"

He found the kitchen, and noticed broken glass everywhere.

"Oh Jean, sorry. Watch where you walk." Marco's voice shook slightly, but Jean could hear it.

"Are you okay?" Jean asked, eyeing the arm Marco had cradled against his chest.

Marco smiled and nodded. "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

Marco looked away and began picking up large pieces of the shattered plate scattered on the ground. Jean carefully walked across the kitchen and bent to Marco's level. Roughly he grabbed Marco's right arm and exposed it, and gasped. "What the-"

Marco wrenched it back. "I said I was fine, didn't I." Marco quivered.

"What the hell happened?"

Marco stood and threw the pieces of glass away. "Nothing."

"'Nothing?' You have a giant ass scar on your shoulder and arm!"

"I was born with it."

"Really?" Marco nodded shyly, rubbing it.

"What a disappointment." Jean grunted as he rubbed his chin.

"Huh?"

"I mean, it would've been cool if you had said that you had murdered someone for their arm and sewn it onto your own body or something."

Marco laughed, catching Jean's attention. It wasn't a loud laugh, but it resounded within him, it was beautiful, and sad.

"You watch too many movies, Jean."

Jean blushed and looked away. "What do you know anyway."

"I know you need to go put your shirt on."

Jean's blush deepened then as he realized he had discarded his shirt when he had heard the crash. "Shut up!" he shouted as he raced back to the bathroom.

Jean was bothered. Who was this kid, and why did he seem familiar? Jean shook his head furiously. It was impossible that this kid seemed familiar. Although Marco said he knew him, he had no clue who Marco was. And besides, he couldn't be familiar to Jean. Everyone was the same, essentially.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew he shouldn't have even bothered trying to explain. The story seemed pretty weird while it was happening, but repeating it to Eren and Mikasa made him seem outright insane.

"You woke up in some guy's bed, and you didn't run like hell out of there?!" Eren stared at him in disbelief.

Jean rested his chin on his hand and glanced away.

"Basically." he mumbled.

"You're crazy. Mikasa, tell him he's crazy."

Mikasa sat down quietly beside Jean. "But you said he was nice right? Nothing seemed off?" she inquired.

He nodded. "I mean, at first I thought it was weird that a random guy would drag another random guy that he found passed out in his yard into his home and take care of him rather than calling for help or something. But, as I talked to him, I got the feeling that…"

"That?" Yaeger asked impatiently.

Jean shrugged and stood, readjusting his shirt. "I don't know. I'm gunna go home now. Sorry for running out on the party."

"Jean, we aren't mad about you leaving." Mikasa grabbed his hand reassuringly.

"We're mad because you stayed in a stranger's house hungover without calling one of us!" Eren snapped.

"Eren." Mikasa warned.

Eren sighed exasperatedly and walked down the hallway and out of sight. "He's just worried about you, you know." she said quietly as she walked him to the door.

"Yeah, I guess."

"We'll see you later okay?"

Jean waved as she closed the door behind him. Quietly he glanced up at the sky. "Looks gloomy." he mumbled as a cool breeze ruffled his hair. "Better just go home." He tiredly climbed into his slightly beaten up car and turned it on, changing the radio station to one not so upbeat. As he began driving, he suddenly took a detour, away from downtown, where his apartment was located. He figured that, on a gloomy day such as this one, hardly anyone would be going to the old fashioned square just outside city limits.

As he arrived to the square, he noticed his assumption was spot on. Hardly anyone was walking on the cracked sidewalk bordered by store after store. Shop keepers could be seen cleaning up inside, the warm glows of their stores illuminating the sunbleached patches of sidewalk just outside their doors donned with "We're open!" signs. He parked on the street just in front of a store that had already closed and began walking down the sidewalk barely inhabited by others.

But, he was content.

Here, he didn't have to talk to anyone or pretend to enjoy their company. But, as he made his way further into the center of the square where the fountain beginning to be overrun by weeds was located, the sky began to drop small, cold droplets.

"No! Please no." a frantic voice sounded from across the street.

Jean glanced over and noticed a man donned in two hoodies, jeans, a beanie and scarf struggling with multiple squares of wood and bags of stuff that looked heavy. And it was all about to be ruined by the rain.

Quickly he jogged over and began picking up the squares, which he now realized were pieces of blank canvas. "Here, I'll help."

"Uh, thank you!"

As the man stood, Jean stepped back. "Marco?"

The freckled boy met his gaze then, his brown eyes widening. "Jean? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

The rain's speed began picking up, and the panic in Marco's eyes returned.

"Where are you parked? We can take these to your car, right?"

Marco shook his head. "I took the bus here, and it's not returning until 10."

"Tonight?" Jean asked in disbelief.

Marco nodded.

"What were you gunna do for 4 hours?"

Marco smiled. "Paint."

Jean studied his face and shook his head. "Okay well, there's a coffee shop up the street a few stores. Let's go there."

Marco nodded and followed behind Jean as they jogged up the street. Luckily the coffee shop was still open. The door creaked slightly as they entered and slammed shut behind them. They plopped down at the table next to the window and began taking their wet jackets off.

"Why are you wearing so many hoodies?" Jean inquired as he took note of the long sleeve shirt Marco was also wearing. "And it's barely even the season for a scarf."

Marco removed his emerald colored beanie and shook out his damp hair, and then placed it on the table beside him. "I get cold really easily." he blushed slightly as he began to take inventory of all of his supplies.

"I'll go buy us coffee." Jean said as he stood.

"Uh, you don't have to do that."

He began walking over to the barista. "Don't worry about it, I owe you."

Jean ordered and made his way back to Marco, who had just straightened up from observing all of his supplies. "Are your papers ruined?"

"No, thanks to you." Marco took a sip of the drink Jean had placed in front of him, and then he paused.

"What? If you don't like it, you don't have to drink it. I can get you something else." Jean said. He hadn't meant to sound rude.

Marco smiled at him then. "No. Actually, you got my favorite drink."

Jean glanced out the window beside him, trying to cover his blush. He hadn't imagined it. Marco's smile was actually kind of…cute.

"So, what are you doing all the way out here?" Jean asked suddenly.

"Oh, I come out here to the little crafts store over there." he said, pointing across the street. "I've been coming here for awhile. But I haven't been here lately. That's why the fountain looks so abandoned."

Jean looked back over to Marco. "What do you mean?"

"I used to take care of the fountain. You know, weeding around it, picking up trash, stuff like that. But I haven't been back lately, so it's gotten kind of messy. I was going to fix it up today, but the weather got kind of crappy."

Marco took a sip and returned the question. Jean stared at him, or rather, the whip cream mustache lingering on his upper lip. Then, he laughed as he handed Marco a napkin. "Nice mustache." Marco turned beet red then, and frantically wiped away the whip cream.

"Do you really have to laugh?" he whined as he stared into his lap.

Jean's laughter faded into an amused smirk. "I came here to be alone."

"And now I'm here. Sorry, I've kind of ruined it, huh?" Marco mumbled.

Wait a second. Was that disappointment that laced his words? Jean couldn't believe it, but he decided to play along. Teasing Marco was just too easy. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

Jean watched as Marco's shoulders slumped slightly and his gaze drifted even lower. It seemed like he was trying to disappear.

"Marco?"

"What?" he asked quietly, still not making eye contact.

"I'm kidding." Marco's almond eyes flicked up to Jean's.

"Are you sure? I can understand how disappointing it would be to see someone you know when you're trying to get away from everyone and-"

"Marco. Shut up."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Uh, sorry."

Jean snickered again and stared out at the darkening sky, thunder rumbling overhead. "Do you want a ride back?"

"Huh?"

"I drove here. I could give you a ride back to your house, instead of you having to wait for the bus tonight."

Marco smiled again. "That'd be great!"

Jean stood and put his jacket back on, grabbing his keys. "Okay, I'll be right back. I'll pull it around so you don't have to endanger your paper again." "It's canvas, Jean."

"Same thing." he said playfully over his shoulder as he stepped out into the rain.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Taking the guy home who had saved him in his drunken state only seemed fair, right? Quickly, he plopped into the driver's seat and started the engine, pulling around to the coffee shop and parking. He stepped out of the car and paused briefly, turning around and cranking the heater all the up, just in case Marco was cold. He hurried inside and grabbed his coffee, turning back to Marco, who had already placed one of the hoodies, his scarf, and beanie back on.

"You're not putting the other one back on?" Jean asked as he pointed the hoodie in his arms.

"I, um, uh…didn't know if you would need it. Ya know, just in case you got soaked again as you went to get your car." he replied quietly.

Jean chuckled and began grabbing some of Marco's bags.

"Let's get out of here."

Marco nodded quickly and picked up the rest of his stuff, following Jean to the car. "Thank you!" he called back to the barista as the door slammed shut behind them. They placed the canvases and paint in the back seat and plopped themselves in the front.

"Ah, it feels so good in here." Marco settled in and tossed his extra hoodie in the back.

Jean smirked and pulled away from the curb. As they passed the fountain, Marco sighed. "I really need to come back soon and fix it up again."

Jean snuck a glance at Marco's soft expression, but quickly retreated. He definitely couldn't deny that Marco had a cute face, what with those freckles splayed across his cheeks, and those wide, deep brown eyes, and that full bottom lip-

"Jean?"

Oh shit, had he been staring?

"Did you hear me?"

"Um no. Sorry. I got lost in thought for a second." Marco chuckled lightly. "I asked how long it was back to the city. I've only ever ridden the bus here, and it makes multiple stops before actually coming here, so I don't know how long the drive is."

"Oh, um, about an hour. But it'll be a little longer than that because I don't really like to drive in the rain."

Marco busted out in laughter. "Mr. Tough Guy Jean hates rain? Are you serious?"

Jean really wanted to hit Marco right now. He gritted his teeth and gripped the wheel angrily.

Marco finally caught his breath. "I'm sorry Jean." he breathed. "I'm not laughing at you. Well I am, but not the real you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he spat.

An amused smile still played on Marco's lips. "I'm laughing at the tough exterior you've built up. You're not really that mean."

Jean's eyes widened, but he didn't respond.

"You don't really want to punch every guy that says something stupid to you. You don't really like to get drunk like the other day. And you also don't think all skies are the same."

Jean looked over at the boy who had gone quiet, but he wasn't looking back. He was looking out the windshield silently, all amusement gone. The timeless look in his eyes had returned again.

"What do you know-"

"More than you'd think."

Jean was just about to ask him what he meant when his car lost traction and swerved into the oncoming traffic lane.

"Jean!"

Jean jerked the wheel to the other side, a little too violently.

"Shit!" He growled as they went off the side of the highway and into the ditch. "Damn." he rubbed his head tenderly and checked his body for injury. All clear.

"Marco?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah. I think so." he grumbled.

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your cheek." Jean reached out and tenderly touched his freckled cheek, which was cold and clammy. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a few napkins. "Here," he said softly, handing them to Marco. "This is all I got."

Jean unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. "Sit tight, I'm gonna see if I can get a signal on my phone to call for a tow." Marco nodded and dabbed at his cheek. Jean turned away, and without looking back he sighed. "I'm sorry Marco. I didn't mean to overcorrect on that swerve. And now, you're stuck with me for awhile. Sorry." he began trudging off.

"Wait, Jean!" His voice was lost in the rain.

Marco grunted and gingerly removed his hoodie, and rolled up his sleeve. He sighed and began massaging his throbbing arm, covered in the unattractive scar he was born with. Damn it hurt, and the airbags hadn't even deployed. Maybe he shouldn't have said those things to Jean. Of course he freaked him out. How else would he have known anything about him? He'd only known him for a few days! Well, that's how long Jean had known _him_. Marco had known Jean for much, _much_ longer than that- "Marco? Are you alright?"

Marco snapped away from his reverie and met Jean's amber gaze.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine!" he smiled halfheartedly.

"Then what's up with that?" he gestured to Marco, who was still absentmindedly massaging his scar.

"Oh," he pulled his sleeve back down. "it's just a habit I guess. It's always throbbing."

"Well," Jean said, settling back in driver's seat. "The tow truck will be here in a few hours."

"Hours?"

"Yeah, apparently they don't have many people on duty today."

Marco groaned and paused, and then unbuckled his seatbelt.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting in the back. It's cramped up here."

Jean smirked and rested his head on his seat. "Man, this sucks."

"Don't you have anyone that you can call to come pick you up? I can stay here with your car."

"I don't want to freak them out again after the other day." he replied quietly. Then he turned to face Marco. "And are you stupid? I can't just leave you here by yourself."

"I-I m-mean, you could."

Jean stared at him and smirked again. "Are you shivering?"

"Shut up, I told you I'm not good with the cold."

Jean sighed dramatically and began climbing into the back.

"What are you doin- get off of me!"

"Scoot over then!"

After they settled in, Marco stared daggers at Jean. "You're heavy, you know that?"

Jean shrugged, and Marco's hard expression dissolved into amused laughter.

"So what's the real story behind that scar?"

"What do you mean?" Marco sobered up.

"Were you really born with it?"

"Hmmm. Sort of."

Jean studied his expression. Marco seemed to be serious.

"What?"

"Jean," Marco began quietly, twiddling his thumbs absentmindedly. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

Jean remained silent, not really following Marco's train of thought anymore.

"In a past life, I used to fight these…these _monsters_, I guess you could say. Giant, ruthless monsters that kept everyone confined within walls."

"Just you, alone?"

Marco shook his head. "No, there was a whole squad of us. Multiple squads even. And we all fought against these things so that one day, everyone could leave the walls. I never got to see that day though. One h-had bitten me almost in h-half. Hence the scar." He traced a finger along it.

"Marco," Jean looked concerned, and Marco knew his story seemed farfetched. He shuddered, no longer cold, but numb.

"Are you okay?"

Marco smiled then and laughed halfheartedly. "Just kidding, I was born with this. Got you, didn't I? It was a dream a had a long, long time ago."

He looked out the window at the torrential rain as the smile faded from his lips.

Jean felt weird. He didn't really feel like he should question Marco's mental state, but rather comfort him instead. Something in Marco just seemed so raw and exposed at that moment and Jean felt that Marco hadn't really been joking. Jean inhaled slowly and held it. He hoped he wasn't going to regret this. "I've had this recurrent dream, and it sounds similar to yours."

Slowly Marco looked at him, searching his face for any signs of deceit.

"I can't really make out anyone's faces-they're all just blank. And I'm always holding these two blades in each of my hands, and there's these _things_ standing in front of me, huge things towering over me, licking their lips. And just when we're about to clash, I wake up."

Marco remained quiet.

"That's it."

"That's it?"

Jean nodded.

"Then why are you shaking Jean?" Marco asked quietly.

Jean stared down at his hand, which was, in fact, shaking. "I don't know." he replied, just as quiet. "How weird."

"Yeah," Marco stretched and removed his beanie, musing his hair. "You're probably right."

"Marco," Jean began, grabbing his scarf and forcing him to face him.

"Jean, what are you doing?" Marco was blushing, and something about it seemed familiar and safe. Jean searched his face carefully, taking note of every freckle and every eyelash.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Jean paused for a second, noticing the slight way Marco's bottom lip quivered. Carefully, he pulled Marco closer and tentatively pressed their lips together. Jean was surprised. The tender kiss had opened up something within Jean, something he hadn't felt in a long time. He _wanted_ to be here, with Marco, doing _this_.

But why?

Why did he feel this way?

Why did it have to be Marco?

Slowly, he pulled away and studied Marco's dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Are you really?" Marco replied shyly, and somewhat defiantly.

Jean paused for a moment, and then removed Marco's scarf. "No, I'm not."

Gently he placed his palm against Marco's cheek, which seemed warmer now, even hot. He softly ran his thumb along the cut on his cheek, silently asking for permission to continue. Marco's blush deepened, and his gaze fell.

Then, he nodded.

Jean softly smiled, a real one that he hadn't had to use in awhile. Slowly, he pulled Marco closer to him and kissed him once more, calmly at first, but then picking up the pace. He couldn't hold it anymore. Something about Marco had warmed Jean up, in many places, especially one that he'd rather not admit.

Jean slid his tongue along Marco's bottom lip (damn it felt just as good as it looked) and laced his hand in Marco's softly mused hair. Marco slowly worked Jean's damp jacket off of his shoulders and, with Jean's help, off completely. Swiftly, Jean pulled Marco's shirt over his head and paused.

"Stop staring." Marco pleaded.

Jean reached out and traced his fingertips along the angry scar that shot across his shoulder and down his arm, and Marco flinched.

"Sorry."

"No, it's just, your fingers are cold." Marco grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers to his mouth, slowly licking each one and lingering on his index finger. Gently he kissed the tip of it and released it, the lust in his eyes driving Jean mad. "Better?"

Jean blushed then and intertwined his fingers back in Marco's hair. He tilted Marco's head slightly to the side and exhaled slowly, his warm breath causing Marco to shudder.

"Better." he smiled and placed his lips softly on his neck and began to suck. Marco's hands grasped tightly at Jean's shirt, and he pulled him closer. Jean took that as permission to keep going. He bit then, suddenly and roughly, eliciting a short yelp from Marco. Jean chuckled and licked the small bite mark, making his way lower and sucking roughly again. Another small groan made it's way from the boy's plump lips as Jean left hickies across his tan skin.

"Jean." he moaned as Jean bit him once more. Marco bucked slightly and gasped, pulling at Jean's hair. Roughly, he pulled Jean's head away from his neck.

"Marco?" Jean looked worried, but Marco looked ruffled.

"Jean," he panted, leaning back and pulling Jean on top of him. Silently he unbuttoned Jean's pants, hiding his face with his arms when he was done. Then he muttered something.

"What? I couldn't understand you." Jean questioned.

Oh no. Had he messed up? Maybe Marco hadn't really wanted this, and was just going along with it because Jean had.

"More."

Jean stared down at him as he slowly uncovered his face.

"I want more."


	3. Chapter 3

Marco was going to lose it.

Jean's hand had slowly unraveled what ever restraint he had knitted together when his hand started pumping up and down along his cock. His fingers dug into Jean's shoulders as he threw his head back and moaned. Jean pulled away slightly then and smirked down at Marco as he paused his working hand. Marco bucked against his hand, just like he wanted. Slowly, he ran his thumb across his slit and Marco jolted, precum coating Jean's hand. "You're at your limit right?" Jean breathed as he began pumping again, much slower and teasingly.

Marco nodded, sweat beginning to cover his forehead.

"Then ask for it." He stated, obviously amused. He began sucking on Marco's bruised neck once again, eliciting more loud groans.

"Jean," he pleaded.

"I can't hear you." he chuckled into Marco's shoulder as he quickened his pace slightly.

"Damnit Jean!" he panted.

"Getting closer." he smiled as Marco bucked against his hand.

"Please," he moaned. "Please let me come, Jean. Please."

Jean blushed. Damn, he was adorable.

He placed a sloppy kiss on Marco's swollen lips and pumped even faster as Marco wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Jean, I'm gunna-"

"It's okay." Jean grinned as Marco came in his hand and across his stomach, in a sharp gasp and prolonged whimper. Marco's quick breaths drowned out the rain pounding the car, and Jean kissed his forehead gently.

"Sorry Marco. We aren't done yet."

"Oh thank God. I thought you were quitting on me." he sat up and returned Jean's kiss shakily. "Sorry, I'm still feeling it."

Jean sat back and laughed, trying to readjust himself discretely.

"Oh right." Marco said, leaning forward and pulling Jean's underwear down, revealing his throbbing manhood. "It's you're turn isn't it?"

"You don't have to-"

Too late.

Marco's tongue was tracing circles around the head of his dick and down his length, pausing to suck on a vein that ran along it.

"Marco." he groaned as he wound his fingers in his hair.

Marco glanced up at him, amusement dancing in his brown eyes as he slowly took all of Jean in his mouth.

"Oh my God." Jean muttered.

Marco was _hot_. How could a guy who lives by himself and paints pictures of the sky be so fucking_ erotic_?

Marco repeated the process again and paused, removing his mouth.

"Please don't stop." Jean half-begged, half-demanded.

"Ask for it." he joked as his hand continued pumping along Jean's cock.

"You don't get to say that." Jean laughed as he pushed Marco back down on his dick, causing him to gag.

"Sorry." he breathed.

No he wasn't. That was _hot_. "

Jean," Marco inhaled. "Please don't get harder when you're in my mouth."

Jean smirked. Marco shook his head and began to suck on Jean's head as his hand pumped up and down.

"Oh God, Marco. That's too good."

Jean couldn't hold it back anymore. Roughly, he pushed Marco's head back down once more as he came furiously, his body shuddering. He moaned as he rode it out, and Marco removed his mouth and sat back up.

"Did you really swallow that?" Jean asked incredulously.

Marco shrugged and nodded. "Tasted like-"

"I don't want to know!"

Marco broke out in laughter and shook his head. "You're missing out."

"Marco," he looked over at Jean's serious face. "D-do you, ya know," he scratched his head self-consciously and glanced away. "Want to continue?"

Marco chuckled. "Jean, I really hope I'm not the only one still hard right now."

"Jean slid back on top of Marco and trailed a hand down his stomach and across his thigh. "I can fix that."

Tentatively he pressed against Marco's entrance as he gently bit Marco's bottom lip. "You're okay with this?" Jean asked one more time as he slowly slid one finger in and back out. Marco nodded as he squeezed Jean's shoulders.

"More." he whimpered, and Jean complied by adding a second finger.

"You're really tight" he grunted as Marco moaned.

"More." Marco begged, but Jean paused.

"You know…it might hurt. We have no lube or anything."

Marco nodded and smiled.

"Are you positive?"

Marco pulled Jean down to him and roughly kissed him, and when he pulled away Jean could see the resolve and lust mingling in his expression.

"More." he demanded.

Jean sighed and smiled, spreading Marco's legs wider. Slowly he lined himself up and exhaled. "Ready?"

Marco nodded again, and Jean carefully began to slide in.

"Keep going." he said shakily.

"Damn, you're so tight."

After a moment, Jean was completely inside of Marco. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern filling his features as he gently splayed kisses all over Marco's face. Marco shuddered once, and slowly began to relax his body. "Can I move now?"

"Please do." Marco exhaled.

Jean carefully pulled out until his head was the only thing left inside, and then he quickly thrust back in, eliciting a yelp from Marco.

Oh no. Jean thought he could do this with some control at least, but he was losing it. With every thrust, Marco cried out loudly and lustfully.

"Jean, please don't get harder when you're inside me, too." Marco's laugh dissolved into a loud gasp and his nails dug into Jean's back.

"I can't hold back anymore." Jean groaned as his thrusts gained speed.

Marco's moans became screams as Jean's cock slammed into him repeatedly.

"Oh God. Fuck! Jean, I'm gonna come…" he whimpered against Jean's neck.

Jean shoved their lips together and his tongue traced along Marco's lip. "Not yet." he stated.

He could feel his climax building, but he didn't want to reach it yet. He wanted to enjoy being inside of Marco for a little bit before he came, but with each scream Marco pushed him a little closer to the edge.

"Jean," he panted again.

"Not yet."

Marco gasped and gripped Jean's ass, keeping him balls deep inside of him. Defiantly he gazed up at Jean. "Jean, this is me asking for it. Please. I can't take it anymore." he begged.

Jean kissed his nose and wrapped his hand around Marco's cock, pumping quickly as he continued thrusting once more.

"Ah!" Marco threw his head back as Jean slammed into him.

"Marco, I'm gunna come." he groaned into Marco's ear. Marco came roughly all over his chest and Jean's hand, his torso convulsing and back arching.

"Fuck, Marco." Jean whimpered as Marco suddenly tightened around him, and he came inside. His body shuddered as he collapsed on top of Marco, resting his head on his chest.

"Sorry." he exhaled after a few minutes. "I didn't mean to come inside you."

"It's fine." Marco tenderly pushed Jean's hair off of his forehead and slowly traced circles along the bruises on his shoulder blades. Jean could hear Marco's erratic heartbeat slowing down, and his breathing evened out.

"Did I hurt you?"

Marco shook his head and continued rubbing Jean's back.

Jean was comfortable in Marco's arms. He could feel himself drifting off.

"You're heavy, you know that?" Marco chided jokingly.

"So I've been told." Jean replied softly as the warmth of Marco's body and the steady beat of his heart lulled him to sleep.


End file.
